Golden Daze
by Ace Oiler
Summary: ...and it's gonna be one helluva golden haze the morning after.


**Golden Daze**

**Scene 1: Polishing Linoleum**

In the kitchen, Blanche is stirring a pot of soup while Sophia sits at the table looking at copies of her X-rays. The kitchen door flies open and Rose enters, huffing and puffing in a yellow sequin sweatsuit with an elastic visor smashing her foofoo afro.

"Hi girls! I just got back from my run, and I saw the strangest thing. You'll never guess what I have to say!"

"Are you gonna say again how happy you are that you got rid of that rash?" Blanche remarks, cynically.

"Oh, no. I'm over that. You know Mr. Peters who lives down the block? The old grump that throws bricks at the paper boys? I saw him dancing to "What a Girl Wants" naked on top of his coffee table."

"That beats having to listen to Dorothy jerkin her turkin on a Friday night." Sophia remarks, dead-panned. "Someone called the police and said that we had cows in our backyard."

"What are you looking at Sophia?" Rose asks.

"What do you think I'm looking at? Those pictures of you in St. Olaf's red-light production 'Barnyard Bonanza'? I'm looking at my X-rays. Rose, go get me a flashlight!

Rose leaves the kitchen out of the back door.

Dorothy enters the kitchen, her hair as poofy as Oscar the Grouch on crack. She walks over to the stove where Blanche is cooking.

"What is cooking? What is cooking?. Mmmmmm. So...putting anything special in the pot, Blanche? It smells uncharacteristically good for what you usually cook." Dorothy intones, giggling deeply.

"Well. Just this, and that. A carrot, a potato. A little mushroom I found growing some place. And, the secret ingredient! What I had left over in my throat from last night. It's a family recipe passed down from generation to generation. A little aphrodisiac remedy. I'm just gonna go take me this big pot over to Mr. Peters a little bit later. I've already bragged to him about its 'potent' powers. Besides, he has something that I like in the-downstairs department, if you know what I mean. All the girls from the 'Rusty Anchor' say he has the floppiest, woppiest, dangliest piece of pork in Miami." Blanche shimmies and shakes and does a little jellyrole.

"Hah! Can't compete with your cottage cheese blob ass. Last time I checked, the folks at 'Shady Pines' were asking you to walk down the halls so they could just get a good shine on the linoleum. Elma told me that she could see her reflection." Sophia spouts, tossing her chin in the air.

"Now, now Sophia. This is a good day for me. I found out that if Mr. Peters goes out with me, I can get at his goods. And I don't mean his delicatessen. I mean his connections with those 'talent agents' over in Miami Beach. I've been wanting to send in my little video demo for them to see."

"This must explain the voices reading the script I heard a few nights ago. And as I remember, there was more than one voice in that bedroom." Dorothy remarks, pertly.

"Yeah. And when I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I went into Blanche's room to get an alka-seltzer, and boy was it a septic tank!" Sophia says, with a disgusted grin on her face.

"Ma! Ma! It couldn't have been that bad. Blanche is a responsible, confident woman who knows what she wants in her lifestyle." Dorothy retorts, a self-reassuring expression on her face.

"Kaka flung on the walls is a lifestyle? Having the smell of sourdough wake you up in the morning is a lifestyle? Blanche, I'd like to say I don't judge, but in Sicily you're what we call a _cheapaskanka_, but you probably have already been called that during one your filmings with the boys from little Italy." Sophia remarks, pooching her peached-skinned lips into a semi-frown.

Just then, Rose enters the kitchen with a car battery and a bottle of ammonia.

"What the hell is this? I asked for a flashlight you idiot!" Sophia screams.

"It's just that. I remember in St. Olaf that one of our farmers, Dumpy Dilslug, poured ammonia onto a battery. There was a miraculous light, and the whole town saw colors. Maybe we could see your X-Rays in a happier, peppier way!" Rose cheerfully exclaims, rolling her head side to side with a bozo crescent smile.

"I wouldn't mind seeing it. It might just make my day a little more interesting before my encounter with 'Porkhung Peters', or so I've heard him called." Blanche utters, cupping her woogly boobs with one hand, while tracing a line up her gelatinous hip with her paste on fingernail with the other.

"I gotta see this for myself." Dorothy says, half-interested. "If this one works, at least one of Rose's dumb St. Olaf stories would have been true."

Rose dumps the whole bottle of ammonia on the battery and puts her face right up to observe it. The battery fizzles, and squeaks and produces a grey gas that pervades the kitchen.

"I'm...I'm feeling kinda groggy. Maybe we should open a window." Blanche murmurs, staggering to walk out of the kitchen, but falling over onto the kitchen table.

"In Sicily, we used to do this with spray paint. But the spray paint tasted a lot more like...," Sophia trails off.

"I'm going to go to sleep now. Oh...oh, Rose. You are such a f#$%ing dingbat." Dorothy whispers, her hand falling across Blanche's back.

**Scene 2: A Woowoo for Hoohoo**

The girls wake up in an empty kitchen. The fumes have dispelled, and Blanche's pot of soup is empty.

"What the hell happened to us?" asks Sophia, dumbfounded.

"I don't know about you, but I saw the brightest colors and the prettiest, most cuddliest teddy bears in that dream!" Rose puts in, rolling her eyes round and round in their sockets with a sick look on her face.

"What?" Dorothy inquires. "What? Who you all? Where am I? I kidnapped! Help, help, help!"

"Calm down, pussycat. We just hallucinated, then fainted, then woke up from that stupid thing Rose did." Sophia says to Dorothy, rubbing her back.

"Get away from me! I no know you!"

Dorothy grabs Sophia by the arm, picks her up, hurls her over her head, and throws her through the kitchen door where Sophia lands in the living room, breaking the coffee table.

"My name is Hoohoo, and I craving cock!," Dorothy wails at the top of her lungs, looking like a version of Gonzo on Benzadrine.

"But Dorothy. I'm Rose. This is Blanche, and that old prune was your mother, Sophia Petrillo you just threw into the door. We're the 'golden girls'. Don't you remember? We're room mates, gosh darnit, by howdy!"

"Do you have a woowoo? I want a woowoo. Give me cock! I want cock, now! Give me cock!"

Dorothy claws Rose's bleached afro, picks her up by the head, and lifts her into the air.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Rose squeals like a piglet. "I don't have a cock, honest! Oooooo. I haven't seen one since I left the farm in St. Olaf. Please let me down!"

Dorothy throws Rose down onto the floor, thumping her hiny on the cum-splotched linoleum.

"What is this white stuff, on floor? It is sticky. It is life juice. I need some myself. Take me to source!" Dorothy moans, in a high-pitched whine, massaging a bit of the substance between her fingers.

Blanche prances over to the stove, wisping her hair in her brisk movements.

"Must have been that stew I cooked. There's a 'lil piece of paper in the pot. 'Thanks for the stew. Thought I'd help you dames out by opening up the windows. Guess it's done its work for me. Come to my place at eight for your screen test of a lifetime. -Porkhung Peters.' Why, gosh. I better get ready for my date tonight! He musta really liked that stew cause it's all over the place." Blanche declares, walking out of the kitchen with her ass high in the air, as if a crayon is stuck up it.

"There's your source. Get her! She has enough liquids in her twat to transform Joan Rivers from a Mummy. It's her you want!" Rose grumbles.

"Hoohoo wants cock. Hoohoo wants cock! Hoohoo wants cock!"

**Scene 3: Mummy Cat**

Blanche is sitting at her boudoir in her bedroom, putting on her lipstick. From behind her, a shadow lurks. Dorothy's reflection appears in the mirror, grasping Blanche's throat from behind.

"I am hoohoo. I want cock. Give me cock, now!"

"Ugh ahg ah uhhh ooo..l..et..hack...me go...and I'l..ugh igh hah...tell you."

"You tell hoohoo where to get cock. I want cock. I'm starving for cock."

"Gees, honey. Are you alright? You are acting kinda funny. Anyway, you've come to the right person. I can fix you up lickity split with any kinda 'meat' that you want." Blanche teases, oblivious to Dorothy's change of personality. "Now, you and me'll just head down to Porkhung Peter's place tonight, and then I'll invite some of my 'friends' from the golf course and 'The Rusty Anchor,' and we can party 'till the sun rises. K? Heeheehee!"

"Okay. Hoohoo get ready for tonight-night. I go foofoo my hair. Put on a sack and shave my chest and face fo' party."

Dorothy zombie-walks out of Blanche's room, totally ignoring Sophia's screeching in the living room.

"Ahhhh! That's not Dorothy, that's a monster! Help! Rose, get in here and help me you mushroom-headed bull turd!"

"I'm coming Sophia. Coming as fast as I can. It'll take me awhile. I hurt my rumpy."

Rose hunches towards Sophia, lying on the carpet next to the coffee table in the living room.

"What happened to Dorothy? What did she do? She's not my Dorothy. That's not my Dorothy." Sophia whimpers.

"It must have been the gas from the battery. I guess Dumpy was right about seeing colors. It was like a kaleidoscope, Sophia!" Rose states, staring blankly into space with her mouth open in amazement.

"Yeah, and because of you, Dorothy is a zombie. Get over here, you!"

Sophia scratches Rose with all her might, scratching at her hair, leaving big clumps of cat-pee colored pubes on the floor. Sophia then takes her walker and conks Rose in the chin with it, causing Rose to fuss and spit.

"Stop it Sophia, Stop it! We can still help Dorothy. Now, as the story was told to me, sometimes people get too excited after the battery and ammonia. You have to get a bowl of ice, and pour it over the person's head when they are...you know...going at it...in the bedroom..."

"When does pussycat do that? I shouldn't even call her pussycat. She's more like one of those dried up stuffed cats I saw on 20/20 that people have cause they can't let go of their pets." Sophia retorts, impudently.

"I overheard from the kitchen that Blanche is taking Dorothy to Mr. Peter's house, where their having a 'party'. Maybe, the men will be so drunk, they'll mistake her for a really bad version of Julia Child, or an older version of Cher."

"Call the taxi, get my Bengay and get my walker! We're going undercover!"

**Scene 4: The California King**

Later that night, Sophia and Rose hobble out of the taxi in front of Mr. Peter's house. Rose holds a pair of binoculars, and Sophia takes a swig from her flask.

"I can't see anything!" Rose exclaims.

"It's the middle of the night! You really are f#$*ing stupid, you know that Rose, and it's starting to scare me."

"Why are you drinking that whiskey, Sophia?" Rose asks, in a shy, delicate voice.

"I'm drinking it for three reasons. One of them is to forget about the pain of being thrown through a wooden kitchen door, landing on a coffee table and luckily, landing just right so I only have to use a walker. The other reason is to prepare myself for the stuff I'm about to see. And the most important reason, is to prepare myself for things I might be...forced to do in such a circumstance.

"Oh. Heeheehee...What?" Rose chitters like a squirrel.

Rose and Sophia emerge from the bushes, creeping across the lawn, around the side of the house, and climb on top of an air conditioner unit to peer inside the master bedroom. Inside, Dorothy is wearing a trashbag, covered in baked beans and licking a little Cuban's hirsute behind. Blanche is riding Mr. Peters on top, the couple sprawled across four other graying men bopping their bolognas into the night.

"I thought I saw everything. That's just sick" Sophia grumbles.

"They're playing leap-frog. How fun! Let's go in and play! Yay!"

"You nincompoop, we have to go in their to pour ice on top of Dorothy's head to revive her from being a Zombie. When we get in there, don't play, seriously!"

"Make me a princess! Make me a princess! Make me a damn princess!" Blanche wails as she rubs herself on the orgiastic crowd, slamming her hand into Porkhung Peter's chest.

"Hoohoo feel great! I feel goooooooood. Like I take a dump, the feeling after. This is fun. I feel young, like Miley Cyrus!" Dorothy ejaculates, allowing her Sasquatch body to heave and relax on top of the Cuban.

Dorothy and Blanche hold hands as they are riding their men, along with the crowd of avid participants. A warm feeling passes between their eyes. A glimmer. A starburst.

"We'll always be sisters, honey. Always..."Blanche whispers in a feathery voice, tears rolling down her face.

"Yeah. Yeah. We be friends forever. Now Let's ride some more! Change partner now!"

Sophia manages to push open the window, inconspicuously, gently stepping through the crack to land on top of a wicker hamper propped against the wall. From her bag, she takes a champagne bucket full of ice and crawls towards Dorothy at the side of the bed. She rises, and just when she is about to pour the bucket full of ice over Dorothy's head, Rose shrilly shrieks!

"Nooooooooo! I want in on the action! Make me a movie star! I wanna be the center of attention for once. I'm a... she's a princess!" pointing to Blanche bouncing on a mustachioed bum. "Make me a farm-girl again! Look at me camera! Look at these!," She lifts up her sweat shirt, and stares into the lens of the camera positioned in the alcove of the closet, holding her hands up to the cheap incandescent bulb in the ceiling, jumping like a Mexican bean.

"Ah, what the hell!" Sophia puffs, resigned and apathetic.

Sophia and Rose strip their clothes off, they hunker onto the California King, and find partners. Sophia splays 'em, Rose prefers to watch. Guacamole, beer, peanuts, cans of chile! This party was really getting started. But, last but not least, the morning after, the whole party would be one hell of a 'golden' daze.


End file.
